Bells on Bob's Tail Ring
by El Kaye
Summary: The Kids from C.A.P.E.R. must find out who stole Bobbing for Apples, the retired racehorse which pulls Santa's sleigh in the Christmas parade each year, but their investigations lead to a shocking arrest and then an even more shocking series of events!
1. Act One

The secret word is: "Horse"

It's that time of year . . . the eggnog's nogging, the yule logs are logging and the mall shoppers are mauling . . . each other, that is. It's Christmastime in Northeast Southweston, and as usual the city is busy making preparations for its annual Santa Celebration and Soirée, a festive and frolicking fete which culminates in the pomp and pageantry of a parade featuring the protuberant pixie himself, Santa Claus! Of course, Santa is actually our very own Sgt. Vinton. But don't tell Doomsday. He still thinks it's the real Santa.

It was two days before the big celebration at approximately 9:33 in morning when I entered the C.A.P.E.R. room to find Bugs and Doc already there. Doc was busy on his computer and Bugs was studying the bottle on our combination fish tank / water cooler.

"Hey, guys," I greeted them. "What's up?"

"Not the water level in the cooler, P.T.," Bugs answered. "It's definitely down."

I walked over and leaned in to look at the fish, which were swimming in only a few inches of water. "I could have sworn the bottle was three quarters full when we left last night," I noted.

"You don't suppose _they've_ been drinking it?" Bugs asked, motioning to the fish.

"If they are, we'd better enroll them in Aquaholics Anonymous," I sighed. "We can't have fish with drinking problems."

"They don't look like they have a problem drinking to me," Bugs insisted. "In fact, I'd say they drink like fish!"

"Well, bless my sole," I said. "Why would they suddenly take up drinking, do you suppose?"

"Just for the halibut," Doc chimed in.

"Holy mackerel!" Bugs cried in pain.

"Seymour smelt that pun coming a mile away!" I added.

"I think I'm going to be eel," Bugs sighed.

"Saury," Doc offered. "But it isn't worth carping about."

"Don't be koi," I insisted. "Your pun was a real grunter."

"I thought it was pretty hoki myself," Doc commented.

"Enough!" Bugs cried, clutching his head in pain. "I'm getting a haddock!"

"Well, before you tank completely, you'd better call Dunga Gin and have her bring over another bottle," I suggested.

"Already done," Bugs assured me. "She said she'd be over right away."

Suddenly we heard the sound of jingle bells from somewhere nearby. We looked around but it stopped as quickly as it had started.

"Now I've got a ringing in my ears," Bugs complained, hitting the side of his head.

Sgt. Vinton entered the room, carrying his well-worn Santa suit over his arm. He sighed sadly, setting the suit down on the desk and folding the jacket. "Bad news, boys. Looks like this year's Christmas parade is going to be canceled."

"Canceled?" we cried in horror.

"But why?" I asked.

"Because some dastardly grinch of a thief has stolen Bob," Sgt. Vinton explained.

"No!" I gasped.

"It can't be!" Doc gasped.

"Not Bob!" Bugs gasped, then he looked confused. "Who's Bob?"

"He's talking about Bobbing for Apples," I explained.

"Oh no!" Bugs cried, then he looked confused again. "But wait . . . isn't that for Halloween?"

"Bobbing for Apples," I repeated. "The retired champion racehorse? The chestnut mare who pulls Santa's sleigh in the parade every year? The equine pride of Northeast Southweston?"

"Oh, Bob!" Bugs finally realized, then he looked shocked. "Someone stole Bob?"

Sgt. Vinton nodded sadly.

"But that's terrible!" Bugs cried.

"I know," Sgt. Vinton sighed, setting the jacket down and folding the pants.

"How could someone steal a horse without anyone noticing?" Doc asked.

"I don't know," Sgt. Vinton shrugged. "Mr. Pelham brought her down for her harness fitting last night and the next thing he knew she was gone."

"Despicable!" Bugs said angrily.

"Implausible," Doc pondered.

"Impractical," I pointed out. "It's going to be difficult for someone to hide a horse!"

"Mr. Pelham is furious," Sgt. Vinton moaned. "He says that not only is he out an expensive racehorse but he's out the money we were going to pay him for renting her this year. He was hoping to get the money up front, in fact."

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. "That nice old Mr. Pelham was charging the city for using Bob in the parade this year?"

"I can't believe that," Doc said. "He's always been so proud to have Bob in the parade. I thought he was happy to donate her services each year!"

"Oh, I'm not talking about Ol' Tack Pelham," Sgt. Vinton explained. "This is his son, Snaff Pelham. Apparently he's taken over the family stables."

"But Sgt. Vinton . . . why don't you just try to find Bob instead of cancelling the parade?" I asked.

"How could _I_ find Bob?" Sgt. Vinton sighed.

"Well . . . you _are_ the police," I reminded him.

"That's right!" Sgt. Vinton realized.

We heard the sound of jingle bells again.

"There, you see?" Bugs asked. "Every time a bell rings, a policeman gets his man!"

"Or horse," I corrected as Seymour, my nose, twitched slightly. "And something tells me Bob isn't too far away."

"Boys, I'll leave you in charge of finding Bob before the big parade," Sgt. Vinton ordered.

"Yes, sir!" Bugs saluted. "You know, I'll bet Doomsday will be able to find Bob!"

"That's right," Doc sighed worriedly. "Doomsday's going to be very upset when he hears about this."

As if on cue, Doomsday entered the C.A.P.E.R. room carrying a large brown paper bag. "Upset about what?" he asked. "Is the candy machine upstairs empty again?"

"No, but you'd better brace yourself for some bad news," Doc began.

Doomsday grabbed hold of the doorway in anticipation.

"Bob has been stolen," I said.

Doomsday's mouth opened in an over-exaggerated way. "Oh no!" he gasped, then his eyes shifted around the room slightly. "But who would have stolen Bob?"

"That's a very good question," I said, sitting on the edge of the desk and eyeing Doomsday closely. "We're hoping you can help us find her."

"Oh sure," Doomsday nodded. "I'll be more than happy to help find Bob!"

"Glad to hear it," Sgt. Vinton nodded as he picked up the Santa suit. "I'll leave it in your capable hands."

As Sgt. Vinton turned to leave, Doomsday eyed the Santa suit with confusion. "Sgt. Vinton, why do you have Santa's suit?"

"Huh?" Sgt. Vinton asked with confusion. "Oh . . . well, uh . . . maybe it's about time you knew the truth, Doomsday."

Bugs, Doc and I motioned frantically to Sgt. Vinton, desperately waving our arms to stop him.

"You see . . . um . . . Santa is so busy before the holidays that . . . uh . . . he asked me if I could take his suit to the dry cleaners for him," Sgt. Vinton offered.

Bugs, Doc and I all sighed with relief.

"Gee, that's awfully nice of you!" Doomsday smiled.

"Yeah, I'm a real saint," Sgt. Vinton smirked, and he left the room.

"We'd better set about finding Bob right away," Doc suggested, giving me a knowing look.

"Yes, but more importantly!" Bugs said, stepping over to Doomsday and eyeing the paper bag in his hand. "What goodies did you bring us?"

"Oh, uh . . . these are just some . . . snacks," Doomsday said, trying to hide the bag behind his back.

Bugs managed to snatch the bag from Doomsday's hands and opened it eagerly. He looked confused as he pulled out an apple. "Apples?" Bugs asked with disappointment. "You usually have candy or cakes or something good."

"Well, I just thought I should try eating something a little more healthy for a change," Doomsday explained. "You know what they say . . . an apple a day keeps the doctor away."

"Then why are there three boxes of sugar cubes in here as well?" Bugs asked, pulling out one of the boxes and rattling the cubes.

"I guess he figures there's no sense in putting the dentists out of work, too," Doc offered flippantly.

"Doomsday . . . is there something you'd like to tell us?" I asked.

Doomsday gave a quick glance toward the window then thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so," he said.

"Doomsday . . . " I began patiently, but just then the door opened.

"Hey, guys!" Dunga Gin said as she entered, carrying a five gallon glass bottle of water on her shoulder. You see, she's known as Dunga Gin because she always wears dungarees and her name is Ginny. Today she looked especially festive in red dungarees with a long-sleeved green shirt underneath. As she walked in the door we heard jingle bells again.

"Hey, Ginny!" Bugs said happily, running over to help her, although it was obvious she didn't need any help. He looked around at the sound of the bells and asked, "How did you do that?"

"How did I do what?" Ginny asked just as the bells stopped ringing. She looked at the almost empty water bottle on the cooler and shook her head. "Boy, you guys must be drinking a lot of water!" She wagged her finger at the fish and said, "Don't worry, little fellas. I'll have you back in the swim again in no time!"

As Ginny prepared to switch the bottles, she asked, "So, are you guys ready to let me join?" You see, Ginny's job is delivering bottled water but she really wants to be a member of C.A.P.E.R.

"Yes!" Bugs said immediately.

"No!" Doc, Doomsday and I said immediately.

"Sorry, the votes are still against you, Ginny," I pointed out.

"Why can't Ginny join?" Bugs demanded to know.

"Don't worry about it," Ginny assured Bugs. "One day they'll realize they really need me, and then they'll let me join."

"I think we need you right now," Bugs said. "You could help us find Bob!"

"Bob?" Ginny asked.

"It's nothing for you to worry about," I assured her.

"Do you mean Bob the horse?" Ginny asked.

"He was stolen last night!" Bugs said.

"That's terrible!" Ginny cried. "Do you have any idea who stole her?"

Doc and I looked at each other worriedly. "We have a few ideas," I hesitated.

"What I would do is thoroughly investigate the scene of the crime!" Ginny said after she finished placing the new bottle on the cooler. "Scour the area for footprints! Dust every surface for fingerprints!"

"Thank you, Ginny," I said, pushing her toward the door.

"Question everyone who's acting suspicious!" Ginny continued. "Call in the usual suspects!"

"I think we have the situation well under control! Thank you for bringing the water!" I said, pushing Ginny out the door and closing it behind her.

No sooner had I turned away when Ginny popped her head back in. "Check with the local stores . . . see if anyone's been buying up apples and sugar cubes!"

"Thank you!" I said, pushing her back out the door and then leaning against it with a deep sigh.

"Hey, what did you do that for?" Bugs asked. "She had some pretty good ideas!"

"A little _too_ good," I sighed, glancing at Doomsday who was now leaning against the window with his arm sticking out through the bars.

"I think we'd better clear up the mystery of the missing horse, and soon," Doc suggested, watching Doomsday as he turned away from the window.

"Yes, now Doomsday," I began, "do you have any idea where Bob might be?"

"How would I know where Bob is?" Doomsday asked nervously.

"Doomsday . . . " I patiently sighed, but then the door opened again.

" . . . and here are the young men who are going to find your horse," Sgt. Vinton announced, pointing us out to a man in his early thirties. He wore a suit which was meant to look expensive but it was obvious to the trained eye that it was just a cheap imitation of a designer suit. "Boys, this is Snaff Pelham."

Doc and I exchanged a worried look.

"You'd better locate Bobbing for Apples soon or I'll hold the city responsible for the loss!" Snaff warned us with a cool but unmistakable anger.

"Gee, nice to meet you, too," Bugs said sarcastically.

"Oh don't worry," Sgt. Vinton said. "They'll find Bob!"

"I can assure you of that," I offered, trying my best to avoid looking at the window.

"I don't know if I feel comfortable with this case being left in the hands of . . . kids," Snaff sneered.

"These boys are the best and the brightest," Sgt. Vinton assured the junior Pelham.

"And the brainiest!" Bugs added, motioning to Doc.

"And the brawniest," Doc said, motioning to Bugs.

"And the brilliantest," Doomsday nodded, motioning to me.

"And the belovedest," I nodded, motioning to Doomsday. "And we'll find Bob or our name isn't C.A.P.E.R."

We all stood at attention and recited, "The Civilian Authority for the Protection of Everybody, Regardless!"

"Tadaa!" sang Doc.

"Tadaa!" sang Doomsday.

"Tadaa!" sang Bugs.

"Tadaa!" I finished, adding a few jazzy "fa la la la la's" to the end.

Snaff gave us a kind of arrogant "Hmph!" before turning to leave. Just then the bells started ringing again. Snaff stopped and turned around, looking suspicious. "What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?" I asked.

"It sounded like sleigh bells," Snaff said, his eyes squinting as he looked toward the window. "And it was coming from outside that window."

"No it wasn't!" I said quickly. "No . . . no, that was . . . that was Bugs, you see."

"It wasn't me!" Bugs insisted.

"Oh yes, it was you, Bugs," I said, stepping behind him. "Watch!"

Fortunately Doc realized what I was doing and while no one was looking he snatched an apple from the paper bag and tossed it over his shoulder and through the bars of the window. I grabbed Bugs by the shoulders and started shaking him vigorously as the bells began to ring.

"See? He's got jingle bells for brains," I explained.

"So it _was_ me!" Bugs exclaimed with surprised. "I_ knew _I had a ringing in my ears!"

Both Sgt. Vinton and Snaff Pelham eyed us with confusion. "Just find my horse," Snaff insisted, and the two men turned and left the room.

"That was close," I sighed with relief.

"Bob was right," Doomsday sighed quietly. "He's not a nice man at all."

"Which reminds me," I said, stepping over to Doomsday. "Doomsday . . . where's Bob?"

"Bob?" Doomsday asked nervously. "Bob who?"

"The horse," I clarified.

"The horse?" Doomsday asked innocently. "What horse?"

There are many things Doomsday is very good at but lying is definitely not one of them. I walked over to the paper bag and reached in, pulling out an apple. I then knelt on the bench and held the apple out through the bars. There was an immediate sound of sleigh bells and a moment later Bob's head appeared as she chomped at the fruit.

"_This _horse," I said.

"Oh wow, look!" Doomsday exclaimed. "P.T. found Bob!"

I sighed as Bob finished her apple and I patted her on the nose. I climbed off the bench and walked back over to Doomsday. "Come on, Doomsday. We knew all along you took Bob."

"How did you know?" Doomsday asked.

"Seymour smelled the horse as soon as you left her outside the window," I explained. "Then _you_ came in only moments later smelling like oats and carrots. You obviously took water for Bob from the water cooler. And then there were the apples and sugar cubes . . . "

"Combined with the fact you left the sleigh bell harness on Bob and that you were trying to be inconspicuous while feeding her through the window but failing miserably . . . it was a pretty elementary deduction," Doc finished.

"Well, he had _me_ fooled!" Bugs sighed with frustration.

"But what we don't understand is _why_ you took Bob," I said.

"Fellas, I _had_ to!" Doomsday said, his eyes tearing up. "Last night when I saw she was getting her harness fitting I stopped in to say hello and she told me she's miserable. Snaff Pelham took over the stables this year from his father and he's not nice to the horses at all. He doesn't even care about them. He just wants to get as much money from the business as he can without spending any more than he needs to. So he's not feeding them enough and he fired the workers so their stalls aren't being kept clean and there's no one to groom or exercise them. And he yells at them and gets mad at them all the time."

"That's horrible!" Bugs exclaimed.

I sighed sympathetically. "I understand that you were just trying to protect Bob but, Doomsday . . . you broke the law. You can't take things that don't belong to you. You could get into serious trouble!"

"I don't care," Doomsday said, looking down at the floor, "I couldn't let him take her back."

Doc looked at me and asked, "What are we going to do?"

"Doomsday certainly didn't mean any harm," I pointed out. "But we're going to have to return Bob to Snaff Pelham."

"No, you can't!" Doomsday cried.

"Doomsday, we'll investigate the stables and do everything we can to help the horses," I assured him. "But if Mr. Pelham finds out that you're the one who took Bob he could press charges against you!"

"And Bobbing for Apples is an expensive racehorse," Doc added. "You could be facing a grand theft charge and possible jail time."

"That's crazy!" Bugs complained. "Doomsday is just trying to protect the horse! They can't arrest him for that!"

"Technically they can," I sighed. "But if we say we found Bob and give her back, Mr. Pelham never needs to know Doomsday took her."

"No!" Doomsday cried. "You're all talking about Bob like she's a thing! She's got feelings! And she's my friend! I can't just stand by and let that man mistreat her!"

I could understand how Doomsday felt. I didn't want to have to send Bob back to the stables where she was miserable. But I also didn't want to see Doomsday jeopardize his future without realizing what he was doing.

"We'll figure out something," I finally sighed, patting Doomsday's shoulder. "As long as we can keep Bob hidden and they don't know you took her, then . . . "

The door of the C.A.P.E.R. room opened again and Sgt. Vinton entered with Snaff Pelham. They were followed by reporter Kurt Klinsinger and Klinsinger's film crew.

"Hasn't anyone ever heard of knocking?" Doc asked with frustration.

"Set up over there, boys," Klinsinger directed the camera crew, who set up their camera equipment in the doorway, blocking anyone's entrance or exit into or out of the room.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm covering the story of the ransomed racehorse!" Klinsinger explained.

"Ransomed?" I asked with surprise. "No one has demanded money for her, have they?"

"No, but why else would someone steal an expensive retired racehorse?" Klinsinger asked.

"Look, this really isn't a good time," I said. "We have work to do here!"

"Publicity can only help this case!" Klinsinger insisted.

"Oh, I seriously doubt that," Doc sighed worriedly.

"Why don't you stand over there?" Klinsinger directed Sgt. Vinton and Snaff Pelham, who stood with their backs to the window.

"Uh, do you mind if we leave before you get started?" I asked. "We have something very important to . . . "

"Kurt Klinsinger, reporting from the 927th precinct police station, here with Snaff Pelham, owner of our beloved Christmas icon, Bobbing for Apples, who has been horsenapped!" Klinsinger began his report. "Mr. Pelham, when did you first realize Bob was missing?"

"Bob was taken last night at approximately 8:30 when she was in town having her harness fitting for the annual Christmas parade," Snaff explained.

"What a dastardly deed," Klinsinger interjected. "Sgt. Vinton, what are the police doing to help rescue Bob?"

"We are putting our best detectives on the case," Sgt. Vinton explained, "and we are confident that we will find Bob and have her returned safely to the love and warmth of her stable by the end of the day."

"Yes, all we want is for Bob to be brought back safely," Snaff insisted, working up what were obviously false tears. "I won't even press charges if only our beloved Bob is allowed to come home. The safety of that horse means more to me than anything in the world!"

Bugs and Doomsday were shaking their heads at everything Snaff was saying as the bells outside the window began to ring again.

"Bugs, would you stop shaking you head?" Sgt. Vinton scolded. "You're ruining the shot!"

"Oh, sorry." Bugs stopped shaking his head but the bells continued ringing.

"That isn't Bugs," Sgt. Vinton realized.

"I'm telling you, it sounds like it's coming from outside!" Snaff insisted, starting for the window.

I cut Snaff off, hopping on the bench and throwing my back against the window, laughing, "Don't be silly! What could possibly be outside that would be ringing?"

Just then Bob stuck her nose in between the bars and snuffled at my shoulder, looking for another apple.

"It's Bob!" Sgt. Vinton exclaimed.

"Make sure to keep rolling!" Klinsinger told his camera crew.

Snaff Pelham pushed me aside and snatched at Bob's reins through the bars. "Get over here!" he snarled angrily.

Bob reared away from Snaff with a loud grunt of protest but Snaff had caught the reins and pulled her in toward the bars roughly, holding her tight even though she continued to try to pull away.

Seeing this, Doomsday ran for the door but found he couldn't get past the camera crew. Sgt. Vinton had stepped back and was blocking the door to the storage area, so Doomsday couldn't go out that way, either. He looked around desperately, then looked up and started snapping his fingers. But nothing was happening.

"How did Bob get behind the police station?" Sgt. Vinton asked.

Snaff looked out through the bars and noted, "There are apple cores out here! And a water bucket! Someone's been keeping her here!"

Bugs noticed that Doomsday was jumping up and down frantically, snapping his fingers. He walked over and asked, "Are you trying to do this?" Bugs snapped his fingers and a trap door in the floor above opened as Bugs' rope ladder dropped down from the ceiling above the upper floors.

"Yeah! Thanks, Bugs!" Doomsday smiled, and he scrambled up the rope ladder.

Doc and I saw Doomsday climbing the rope ladder and frantically motioned for him to stop, but he was already through the trap door and climbing past the second floor.

A woman sitting at a desk on the second floor stopped her paperwork and waved at Doomsday as he climbed past her. "Hey, Doomsday," she smiled.

"Hi, Madge!" Doomsday smiled as he continued to the roof.

"Well, the important thing is you have Bob back," Sgt. Vinton smiled.

"The heck it is!" Snaff Pelham growled. "I want the person who took her to be arrested!"

"Whatever happened to 'I won't even press charges if only our beloved Bob is allowed to come home?'" Bugs asked in a mocking fashion.

"Are you kidding?" Snaff said angrily. "Whoever took my horse is going to pay!"

"Well, but there's really no way of deducing who the culprit is now," Doc pointed out.

"Yes," I agreed. "I'm sure whoever left her here wanted us to find her. The thief is probably long gone by now!"

Doomsday had reached the roof and climbed down the fire escape ladder on the side of the building. Jumping down the final feet to the ground, he worked quickly to remove Bob's bridle.

"It's the duty of the police to find the guilty party!" Snaff insisted, then he lost his balance and almost fell off the bench. "What the . . . ?" Snaff gasped when he realized the reins and bridle in his hand were now empty. He lunged at the window and pressed his face to the bars as Doomsday jumped onto Bob and rode away, the sound of the sleigh bells fading away quickly.

"That kid! That kid just took my horse!" Snaff yelled angrily.

"What a story!" Klinsinger shouted excitedly, running for the door and directing his camera crew to follow.

"Do something!" Snaff yelled at Sgt. Vinton.

"You don't have to worry," Sgt. Vinton assured him. "I'm sure Doomsday had a good reason for riding away on Bob. He's really a good kid . . . "

"Oh, get out of my way, you useless public official," Snaff growled, and he pushed past Sgt. Vinton and ran out the door.

"Don't worry!" Sgt. Vinton called as he followed Snaff from the room. "I'll put out an APB! We'll stop him!"

"_Now _what do we do?" Doc asked, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"We'd better go after them," I suggested, and we hurried out the door.

As we ran through the outer office we saw Sgt. Vinton on the police scanner microphone. "Calling all cars. Calling all cars. Be on the lookout for a young man riding a horse through town. Suspect is blonde, blue eyes, 18 years old, approximately five foot, eight inches tall . . . oh for goodness sake, it's Doomsday! Watch for Doomsday riding through town on Bobbing for Apples and stop him!"

As we ran down the front steps of the police station we saw Kurt Klinsinger riding away on his motorbike with the camera crew following in their news van. Snaff Pelham had jumped into the cab of his truck which was pulling a single horse trailer. The man was looking decidedly aggravated as he tossed the reins down on the passenger seat and drove off after Klinsinger. Sgt. Vinton ran out of the station and hurried to his patrol car.

"Our boys have spotted Doomsday and Bob passing the Krelvin Building," Sgt. Vinton informed us as he jumped into the car. "They're in pursuit!"

"Let's go!" I said, and we jumped into the Big Bologna and joined the chase.

"Does Doomsday have his C.A.P.E.R. band radio?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Doc said as he drove. "You can try it and see."

I pulled out the antenna on my C.A.P.E.R. band radio and pressed the button. "P.T. calling Doomsday! Come in Doomsday! If you can hear me, pick up! Please!"

Doomsday looked down at his C.A.P.E.R. band radio as he heard my voice calling frantically, but he just shook his head. "Don't worry, Bob," he said, "I won't let them take you back!"

The thoroughbred's hooves clicked rhythmically on the pavement as Doomsday clutched the harness around her neck; the sleigh bells ringing loudly. As he held on he could feel her strength and speed and wondered how anyone could ever mistreat such a beautiful animal.

As they turned the corner past the Dingleman Mall people on the sidewalk stopped and stared, pointing in amazement at the sight of the horse and rider speeding by, following by two patrol cars which had their lights flashing and sirens blaring. The procession was soon followed by a motorbike, a news van, a truck pulling a single horse trailer, another patrol car and the Big Bologna.

I turned on the police scanner to hear what was happening. Sgt. Vinton's voice came over the radio, instructing, "We don't want Doomsday or Bob hurt. Just try to cut them off somehow!"

As Bob turned another corner near some tall office buildings Doomsday saw two more patrol cars turning onto the street ahead of them. He directed Bob to turn right into an alley between two buildings. But the minute they turned in he realized it was a mistake. A tall chain link fence turned the alley into a dead end.

Bob stopped and spun around just as the patrol cars screeched to a stop, blocking the opening of the alley. Doomsday jumped off Bob and stood in front of her, ready to protect her no matter what happened.

"We've got them cornered," an officer reported over the scanner.

"Okay, just hold them there," Sgt. Vinton directed. "Don't do anything until I'm on the scene!"

The policemen climbed out of their patrol cars and stood at the mouth of the alley, looking at Doomsday with confusion. Kurt Klinsinger and his news crew had pulled up and were already setting up to film the situation. Snaff Pelham stopped his truck so suddenly the trailer behind him almost jack knifed. He grabbed up the reins and bridle angrily and climbed out of his truck just as Sgt. Vinton's patrol car stopped in front of him.

Seeing Snaff storming toward the alley, Sgt. Vinton stepped in front of him and held his arms out. "This is a police matter now!" he insisted. "Let us handle it!"

"Oh yes, you've handled everything just wonderfully so far!" Snaff growled as Doc, Bugs and I jumped out of the Big Bologna and approached. "I want my horse NOW!"

"In the name of the law, I'm ordering you to wait here!" Sgt. Vinton yelled sternly, causing Snaff to take a step back with surprise.

We watched as Sgt. Vinton walked to the alley and paused, eyeing Doomsday and Bob with concern. "Come on out now, Doomsday," he called gently.

"No!" Doomsday shouted. "I won't!"

I walked over to Sgt. Vinton, who looked at me with confusion. "Why is he doing this?"

"He says Snaff Pelham is neglecting the horses at his stables," I explained.

"Is there any proof of that?" Sgt. Vinton asked.

"Bob told him it was the case," I sighed. "But that's all."

"Although it's straight from the horse's mouth, I can't accuse Snaff Pelham on just Bob's word through Doomsday. That would never hold up in court," Sgt. Vinton pointed out.

"I told Doomsday we could investigate the claims and do things by the book," I explained. "But he's just so passionate about protecting Bob, he doesn't care about the consequences."

"Are you going to arrest him or what?" Snaff yelled from the opening of the alley.

Sgt. Vinton and I walked back over to Snaff. "Look, I'm sure we can come to some kind of understanding," Sgt. Vinton said calmly. "Your father knows Doomsday is a good kid. Maybe if we talked to him, he could . . . "

"My father signed the stables over to me!" Snaff snapped. "He's in a convalescent home now and has nothing to do with this! I am the sole owner of Bobbing for Apples! And I want my property returned to me and I want that kid arrested for theft . . . _now!"_

A look of helplessness came over Sgt. Vinton's face. I knew he didn't want to do what he was going to have to do.

"I'm sure the citizens would be very interested to see how the police department doesn't do their job!" Snaff sneered, motioning to the television cameras which were busy filming.

"Tense standoff here in the business district of Northeast Southweston," Kurt Klinsinger was reporting anxiously in a hushed voice. "We expect the apprehension of the horse thief any minute now . . . "

Sgt. Vinton looked at me sadly. "I'm afraid I have no choice, P.T."

I nodded, understanding his position. "Let me talk to him," I said.

"Go ahead," Sgt. Vinton agreed.

Before I turned to leave, Snaff Pelham held out the reins and bridle to me, which I took reluctantly.

I slowly walked down the alley towards Doomsday, who watched me apprehensively. When I got closer he eyed the bridle in my hand with a look of despair.

"No, P.T.," Doomsday begged. "Please . . . "

I sighed, my heart breaking. "Doomsday . . . I wish there were something I could do. But everyone saw you take the horse. Sgt. Vinton is going to have to arrest you."

"I don't care about me," Doomsday sobbed. "I don't care if I go to jail. But please . . . _please_ don't give Bob to that man. She just knows something bad is going to happen."

"Doomsday, I promise you . . . we will do everything we can to prove Snaff Pelham is neglecting his animals. It will be our very top priority. But right now . . . I have no choice. The law is the law," I explained.

"But P.T. . . . there must be _something_ you can do," Doomsday begged. Doomsday pulled Bob's nose closer and pressed his cheek against it as he tried to fight back tears.

"If there were any other way . . . " I sighed helplessly.

After a long moment, Doomsday slowly nodded. "I understand," he sniffed, reaching out to take the reins from me. As he slipped the bridle over Bob's head he spoke softly to her. "I told her not to worry," Doomsday explained to me as he tightened the straps, "That it's going to be okay and we're going to help her, but that she has to go home for now."

Bob whinnied slightly and nudged Doomsday's shoulder. Doomsday spoke to her, hugging her neck.

"What did she say?" I asked.

"She wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get in trouble," Doomsday answered. "I told her not to worry about me." Reluctantly Doomsday handed Bob's reins to me.

I patted Doomsday on the back gently and assured him, "It's gonna be okay. We're going to help Bob and we're going to clear your name. I won't let anything bad happen to the horses. I promise."

Leading Bob, I walked out of the alley with Doomsday following close behind and stroking Bob's flank. Sgt. Vinton met us about halfway down the alley and Doomsday stopped.

"I'm really sorry about this," Sgt. Vinton apologized.

"No, it's okay," Doomsday said quietly, keeping his eyes on Bob as we walked on. "I understand."

Sgt. Vinton motioned for Doomsday to turn around and Doomsday cooperated, putting his hands behind his back as the handcuffs were snapped in place. "You have the right to remain silent . . . "

I approached Snaff Pelham, who was looking ridiculously smug. He held his hand out, demanding Bob's reins. Just before I handed them over I pulled them away as I stepped in close to him, speaking low into his face. "If you harm one hair on this horse's mane, I swear I'll . . . " I gave him an angry glare which couldn't be misinterpreted.

Snaff seemed surprised, eyeing me suspiciously. When I handed him the reins Bob shied away from him slightly, protesting with a loud huff.

Doomsday called out something to Bob as he was being led to Sgt. Vinton's patrol car. Bob immediately calmed down and obediently followed Snaff to the trailer.

Sgt. Vinton opened the back door of the patrol car and Doomsday slid inside. Before closing the door, he leaned down slyly and unlocked the cuffs, removing them, then patted Doomsday on the shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"And there you have it!" Kurt Klinsinger was exclaiming. "The standoff is now over and the horse thief has been arrested! Much to everyone's shock, the culprit was indeed none other than one of the police department's own youth interns, Doomsday! It is a shocking twist in this already shocking case! We will be bringing you more of this story later on today!" Klinsinger motioned for the camera crew to cut, saying, "Run this footage over to the station! We need to get this on the air as soon as possible!"

Doc and I stepped over to Sgt. Vinton, who was wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "It will take a while to process him. But you should be able to post his bail in a couple of hours." He lowered his voice and asked, "Do you think you could manage a hundred dollars?"

I looked at Doc, who said, "Sure. No problem."

"Okay, good," Sgt. Vinton said, climbing into his patrol car.

I saw Doomsday through the back window of the police car as he sat looking up at me with an expression that cut me to the quick. It wasn't one of anger or hatred . . . it was a heartbreaking mixture of sadness and disappointment.

As the patrol car pulled away, Bugs approached us. Up until now he hadn't said anything but the look he was giving me was similar to the one I had just seen in Doomsday's eyes mixed with anger.

"How could you?" he cried. "How could you give Bob back to that man? And how could you let them arrest Doomsday? Just before _Christmas???"_

"Bugs, I . . . "

Before I could even try to explain, Bugs turned and stormed back to the Big Bologna.

I felt horrible, like I had let everyone down. It was then I felt Doc's hand on my shoulder.

"You did what you had to do," he assured me.

"Doc, we have to make this right," I said.

"And we will," Doc said confidently. "We'll bail Doomsday out and we'll get the goods on this Snaff Pelham. The truth will come out, you'll see."

As Doc and I walked to the Big Bologna we heard a cacophony of sleigh bells. Snaff Pelham had unfastened the belled harness Bob was wearing and unceremoniously dropped it on the ground. He then directed Bob to back up into the trailer, barely containing his anger, as Kurt Klinsinger approached.

"So perhaps later today we could come out to the Pelham Ranch and get some video of Bob in her stall?" Kurt suggested. "It would make a nice close to the story."

"Absolutely not!" Snaff shouted, slamming the gate of the trailer shut. "You set one foot on my property and I'm calling the police!" When Snaff noticed that Doc and I had stopped to hear this exchange, he added, "Bob needs rest now. She's had more than enough excitement for one day."

Kurt looked frustrated as Snaff jumped into the cab of his truck and drove away. "Strange man," he commented to us as he headed for his motorbike.

"A strange man with something to hide," I added. "We've got to prove that Doomsday was justified in trying to keep Bob away from him."

* * *

The interior of the Big Bologna was filled with a tense silence as Doc drove us back to the police station. Only the occasional sound of a confused Mr. Featherstone mumbling a vague inquiry as to what had happened was heard the entire trip.

We reached the precinct and Bugs exited the Big Bologna without saying anything. We followed him into the station. Inside one of the inner offices I saw Sgt. Vinton leading Doomsday to the processing area where he would be photographed and fingerprinted.

"Okay, we have a lot to do," I began as I entered the C.A.P.E.R. room. "First, Doc and I will . . . "

It was then I realized that Bugs was sitting in the middle of the floor with his legs and arms crossed.

"Bugs, this is no time for yoga," I said.

"I'm on strike," Bugs stated firmly.

"Oh come on, Bugs!" Doc moaned.

"Nope, I'm on strike and I'm staging a sit-in until Doomsday is released!" Bugs stated emphatically. "I won't lift one finger for this organization until Doomsday is set free!"

I checked my watch. "Well, that will be in another . . . ninety minutes or so," I said.

"Come on, Bugs," Doc sighed. "We could really use your help."

Bugs turned his head away and closed his eyes. I knew he wasn't going to budge. Whenever he makes up his mind about something like that he can be very stubborn.

"Okay, fine," Doc said, walking over to me. "I'll get the bail together for Doomsday."

"And I'm going to make some phone calls," I said. "It might be very interesting to have a talk with Ol' Tack Pelham."


	2. Act Two

I noticed how nicely manicured the lawns of the Shady Days Rest Home were as I pulled my Convert-a-Bike into a parking space at the side of the building. I also noted how the large windows in the front of the facility allowed ample sunlight to filter into the reception area as I stepped through the sliding glass doors.

I had asked Bugs if he wanted to accompany me on this trip but he flatly refused (or at least I interpreted his icy silence as such.) So after confirming that this was where Ol' Tack Pelham was living, I had left Doc in charge of bailing out Doomsday.

"Merry Christmas," the woman wearing the elf hat and poinsettia pin at the reception desk greeted me. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Tack Pelham," I explained.

"Oh yes, you called before," the woman remembered. "I told him you wished to speak with him and would be right over. He's sitting there, next to the Christmas tree."

I looked at the area where she had motioned and spotted the elderly man sitting in a chair near the tree. "Thank you," I said.

As I approached Ol' Tack Pelham I realized he had never lived up to his descriptive "Ol'" as much as he did now. He was sitting, hunched over, in the chair, wearing a bathrobe, striped pajamas and worn slippers. His right hand clutched the top of a multi-footed cane which stood by his side.

"Mr. Pelham?" I asked cautiously, as I wasn't sure if he were even awake.

The old man looked up at me without much enthusiasm. "Yes?" he asked.

"I'm very glad you could meet with me, sir," I said, sitting in the chair beside him. "I'm sure you don't remember me . . . "

"You work with the police," Tack stated. "I remember, because you help with the Christmas parade every year. But I'm sorry, I don't believe I know your name."

I was impressed and offered my hand to shake. "I'm surprised you remember me at all," I said. "My name is P.T., by the way."

"Uh huh," Tack said unenthusiastically. "Well, what can I do for you, Sonny? I'm missing 'As the World Turns' for this, you know."

"I'm sorry," I offered. "This won't take long. I just wanted to know the circumstances behind your son, Snaff, taking over Pelham Ranch this year."

A sad look came over the man's face. "Oh yes. Well, there isn't much to tell. Snaff took over because . . . well, because I wasn't up to caring for the ranch any more. I've outlived my usefulness."

"Oh, I'm sure that isn't the case," I said. "You are one of the most successful horse breeders in the county!"

"I_ was," _Tack corrected me sharply. "I loved my work, even during the times it hasn't been all that profitable. Horses are my life. But no, that changed this year. Both my body and my mind failed me. And so here I am . . . eating re-hydrated pudding and watching soap operas with old biddies who wear too much perfume."

"Forgive my forwardness in saying so but your mind still seems as sharp as a tack, Tack," I pointed out.

"I can't believe it, either," Tack sighed, showing a little more energy now. "But maybe I was just fooling myself. Being on my own out there for so long . . . maybe I didn't realize how bad I was getting. When Snaff came home earlier this year to help run the ranch, that's when I realized how forgetful I was becoming."

"In what way?" I asked.

"I would put the horses in their stalls at night, then the next morning they would be in completely different stalls," Tack recalled. "And I would fill the water troughs only to find later that they were empty and I hadn't filled them at all. Things like that. I thought I was losing my mind. Snaff said he was worried about me, that I must be going senile. I didn't want to believe it. And then . . . " His voice trailed off.

"And then what?" I coaxed him anxiously.

"And then one day I was in the stables feeding the horses, something I'd done every day for the last forty years of my life," Tack sighed. "I turned around and fell over a bench, fracturing my hip. I still can't believe it. I swear that bench was never there before! But Snaff . . . he insisted it was always kept there. He was so concerned. When I had to go into a nursing home to recover, he assured me he would take over the running of the ranch. I was so surprised. He never showed any interest in the ranch before this year. But he's been there for me and for the ranch ever since."

"But how did you end up here?" I asked.

"Snaff kept insisting that running the ranch was just too much work for someone my age," Tack sighed. "He suggested I retire and enjoy the rest of my years in peace and quiet without having so much to worry about."

"And he would take over the ranch from you completely?" I asked.

"In a way, I was relieved," Tack admitted. "Not about leaving the ranch. No, I loved my horses and I hated to leave them. But I was happy to be able to give Snaff something to do that he could pour his heart and soul into. When he was young he didn't seem interested in the ranch at all. You see, he's been a boy without direction for so long. He went to college but dropped out. He didn't want to work that hard for that long to get rich. He was always looking for the next big thing that would make his fortune." Tack shook his head slowly. "I often wondered where I'd gone wrong with him. This was my chance to make it up to him."

"You signed over the ranch to him?" I asked worriedly. "Legally?"

"Oh no," Tack insisted. "Although I did sign a document which he had a lawyer draw up that gave him power of attorney over my affairs. He said it was the only way he could run the ranch properly."

"Did you have a lawyer representing you when you signed these papers?" I asked.

"Why no," Tack said with surprise. "That would imply I don't trust my son!" He eyed me suspiciously. "Why are you so interested in all of this anyway?"

I thought quickly to come up with an excuse, not wishing to completely disillusion the man about his son. "Oh well, when Snaff brought Bob to town yesterday for her harness fitting . . . "

"Oh, Bob!" Tack sighed sadly, his eyes twinkling. "I miss her so much. Best horse I ever had. Do you know why I named her Bobbing for Apples?"

I shook my head no.

"When she was just a little filly I accidentally dropped an apple into the water trough and she just loved the challenge of bobbing around, trying to catch it and eat it," Tack laughed. "It became a little game with us. She's definitely one of a kind."

"Anyway," I continued, "Snaff wanted the city to pay him up front. I just wanted to be sure that you would be getting your share of the money."

Tack sat up quickly, his eyes full of fire. "Pay him for what?"

"For renting Bob for the Christmas parade," I explained.

"That little brat is charging the city_ rent _for using Bob in the Christmas parade?" Tack yelled, causing everyone around us to look startled.

"Well, yes, but I thought you . . . "

"What else is the little degenerate doing?" Tack demanded to know. There was no sign of the feeble old man remaining in his disposition now.

"Doomsday is concerned that he's not taking proper care of the horses," I explained.

Tack pointed a finger at me. "That nice boy who talks to Bob every year?"

I nodded. "He was so concerned that he took Bob without permission."

"Oh pshaw!" Tack laughed. "I trust that boy with my horses any time! He has a natural way with animals. Snaff didn't give him any grief about it, did he?"

"Well . . . he had Doomsday arrested," I answered.

"He _what?!" _Tack shouted, jumping to his feet. "What is my son thinking?"

"I just thought that you would want to know," I said.

"And I thank you for that!" Tack insisted, actually helping me to my feet. "Imagine, Snaff pressing charges against that nice boy! And bilking money from the city! I shudder to think what kind of shape the ranch is in! I want to see it for myself!"

"I rode my bike here," I explained. "But my colleagues can pick you up in a little while and drive you to the ranch if you like. That would give you time to get dressed and . . . "

"You bet I like!" Tack insisted, throwing aside his cane and storming off down a hallway. "I'll be ready in no time flat! I'll wait for your friends in the lobby! To think I trusted that no-good, ne'er-do-well, excuse-for-a-son of mine . . . has probably run up a bunch of gambling debts again, the little creep . . . "

I hurried outside and took a seat upon my Convert-a-Bike as I unsnapped my C.A.P.E.R. band radio from my belt. "P.T. calling Doc. Come in, Doc!"

The radio crackled and I heard Doc's answer, "Doc here, P.T."

"What's the progress with Doomsday?" I asked.

"Sgt. Vinton is trying to hurry him through processing as quickly as possible," Doc explained. "It'll probably be another half hour or so."

"Okay, listen," I said. "I've spoken with Ol' Tack Pelham and it's not good. It appears that Snaff swindled his father out of the ranch. He even managed to cause the old man to break his hip to get him out of the way."

"I knew I didn't like that guy," Doc sighed.

"Listen, once you have Doomsday free on bail and Bugs hopefully ends his protest, take Doomsday home and make sure he stays put. I don't want him getting into any more trouble. He's got to stay as far away from this case as possible."

"That's not going to be easy," Doc pointed out.

"I know," I agreed. "But I trust you to convince him somehow. Then I want you and Bugs to come over here to the Shady Days Rest Home and pick up Tack and drive him out to the Pelham Ranch. I'm heading over there right now."

"I don't know, P.T.," Doc said worriedly. "I don't trust this Snaff guy. I'm not sure I like the idea of you going there by yourself."

"Doc, I promised Doomsday I wouldn't let anything happen to those horses," I insisted. "I certainly don't trust Snaff, either. But I'll just check out the situation to make sure everything's okay then wait for you guys to arrive."

"Okay, well . . . be careful," Doc warned.

"I will," I assured him. "See you soon. Over."

* * *

Pelham Ranch was located outside the city in a rural area of farmland on the south side of Northeast Southweston. As I pulled my Convert-a-Bike behind a large tree just inside the ranch perimeter and turned off the motor, I checked my watch. It was 11:40 a.m. It didn't seem possible that so much could have taken place in such a short amount of time. I quickly turned off my C.A.P.E.R. band radio so I wouldn't receive any unexpected calls which could alert Snaff to my presence.

Slowly I made my way toward the center of the ranch where most of the buildings were located. Just ahead of me were the stables. It was a large, one story complex, although the ceilings were fairly high with rafters so hay could be stored above. There was a corral stretching out from the front of the building with water troughs lining the inside fencing. No horses were currently in the enclosure and the large double doors leading from the stables to the corral were closed.

A comfortable-sized house sat some distance away but well within view of the corral side of the stables. The area between the stables and home was dotted with various out-buildings, presumably used for storage and supplies. A large water tank stood on a platform nearby and there was also a well nearby. I could see the truck and trailer Snaff had been driving parked just outside the corral but it was clearly empty.

Cautiously I crept along, using the underbrush surrounding the area as cover. When I felt sure I could cross the open distance without being seen I hurried to the stables, approaching from the back. The side facing the untamed hillside and pasture also included large double doors, and I was able to sneak inside without any trouble.

It took my eyes several minutes to adjust to the darkness but it took much longer for my poor nose, Seymour, to adjust to the smell. Now granted things like farms and stables, which may naturally smell unpleasant to some people, are always overwhelming sensory inundations for Seymour. But this went far beyond that. This was a stench unlike any I'd ever experienced. I could already tell the stables hadn't been cleaned with any seriousness for some time.

The building was comprised of eight stalls on each side with simple dirt floors. A wide pathway led between the stalls to the double doors which led to the corral. It was cluttered with hay and equipment, giving it a look of complete disarray. I could see the heads of about ten to twelve horses leaning over the open gaps above the doors of their enclosures. They huffed and sniffed at me curiously, some shying away nervously as I stepped slightly forward. Bob whinnied at me from her stall, which was located closest to the doors through which I'd entered. She was still wearing the bridle and reins, which Snaff hadn't bothered to remove.

I walked over to Bob and patted her on the nose as she sniffed at my shirt, undoubtedly looking for an apple. "I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything," I apologized.

I then walked the length of the stables, stopping to look at the different horses in the dim light. They were beautiful animals but they all had a lethargy and sadness about them. They seemed grateful for the slightest bit of affection; a simple pat on the nose or a few kind words. As I stopped at one stall I saw some hay laying on the ground just out of one poor animal's reach. I stooped down to pick it up and offered it to the horse. I couldn't believe how desperately the horse gobbled down the small handful of hay, as if it were the first thing it had eaten in days.

"Oh Bob," I sighed. "This is worse than I thought. I'm so sorry I made you come back here."

Bob whinnied as if she understood.

I continued my inspection of the stalls on both sides until I had once again reached the back doors. As I turned from the stall opposite Bob's my foot hit something which made a strange metallic sound. It was sloppily concealed beneath a piece of cloth, which I pulled away to reveal two gasoline cans.

"That's strange," I thought to myself. "Why would anyone store gasoline in a stable?"

A terrible thought crossed my mind but was interrupted when the door beside me started to creak. I stepped back into the corner, pressing myself into the darkness as far as I could as the door slowly swung open. I held my breath, ready to spring on the intruder if necessary.

"Oh geez, it stinks in here!" a soft voice complained.

"Mr. Klinsinger?" I asked with surprise.

Kurt Klinsinger wheeled with fright, letting out a loud gasp of shock as he tried to see through the darkness. "Who's there?" he asked nervously.

"It's me, P.T.," I said, stepping forward.

"What are you doing here?" Klinsinger asked.

"I was about to ask you the same question," I said, eyeing the small Super 8 camera in the reporter's hand. "I thought Snaff Pelham made it perfectly clear he didn't want you to do a follow-up story."

"Which is exactly why I'm doing one!" Klinsinger explained. "I suspect there's more going on here than he's letting on!"

"Well, for once your reporter's instincts are completely correct," I assured him.

"They are?" Klinsinger asked with surprise.

"Snaff Pelham is letting the ranch fall into ruin," I explained. "He isn't putting any money into it at all. Which includes not properly caring for the horses. That's why Doomsday took Bob, because Bob told Doomsday the horses were being neglected."

"Wow!" Klinsinger gasped excitedly. "What a story!"

"Mr. Klinsinger, if you could film the state the horses are in, it could help clear Doomsday!" I pointed out. "It will prove he had just cause in taking Bob!"

"You're right!" Klinsinger realized. "Boy, I wish my film crew had come with me."

"Don't worry," I said, motioning to the Super 8 camera. "That will do fine. Here . . . open the doors back here to let in more light."

Klinsinger and I each opened one of the large back doors and the stables were immediately brighter. I then led him around the area, showing him the deplorable state the horses were in as I explained how Snaff had duped his father out of the ranch in hopes of cashing in on a fortune. I paused in my explanation at the far end of the stables to open one of the doors to the corral and let in more light. As we completed our circle of the building, I stopped at the cloth on the ground and uncovered the gasoline cans.

"And this is the most shocking thing of all!" I said.

"It's just a couple of gas cans," Klinsinger sighed with disappointment. "They use those on farms all the time to fill tractors and such."

"But why are they stored here in the stables?" I asked. "Knowing Snaff Pelham, I'm afraid he may very well have the intention of burning the place down."

"But why?" Klinsinger asked. "If what you say is true and he so desperately wants money, then why burn the only thing he owns?"

"For the insurance," I explained, covering the cans again. "Of course, I hope I'm wrong about that."

Klinsinger turned off the camera. "That's the end of the cartridge," he announced. "But I've got plenty here to expose Snaff Pelham's abuse of these animals."

"Mr. Klinsinger, could you go back to town and get this film developed and give it to Sgt. Vinton right away?" I asked.

"Absolutely!" Klinsinger bragged proudly. "The power of the press will not fail! My motorbike is hidden just down the road a ways. Let's go!" He turned to leave then stopped when he realized I wasn't following. "Aren't you coming?"

"No, I'm staying here to keep an eye on the horses," I explained. "Doc and Bugs will be coming as soon as Doomsday is released and they're bringing Ol' Tack Pelham with them."

"Okay, well, I'll make sure this film gets to Sgt. Vinton!" Klinsinger stated, and he scurried off as I closed the back stable doors behind him.

* * *

Bugs' legs were starting to cramp but he tried his best to ignore the pain. He was getting a little frustrated that no one was bearing witness to his defiant and uncomfortable stance. After all, what was the point of staging a sit-in when no one was paying any attention? Finally he uncrossed his legs and stretched them with a satisfying sigh of relief.

The door of the room suddenly flew open and Ginny burst in, looking around. She spotted Bugs on the floor and hurried over to him as he quickly tried to re-cross his legs, causing them to cramp even worse than before.

"Is it true?" Ginny cried. "Has Doomsday _really_ been arrested for stealing Bob?"

"I'm afraid so," Bugs confirmed.

"I don't believe it!" Ginny gasped. "It's not possible! Doomsday wouldn't harm a fly let alone a horse!"

"Doomsday wouldn't even harm a horsefly," Bugs agreed. "But he's been arrested."

Ginny sat down on the bench, looking shocked. "How could this happen?"

"Well, technically Doomsday _did_ steal the horse," Bugs admitted. "But he had a very good reason!"

"It must have been a good reason for Doomsday to break the law," Ginny nodded.

"Bob told Doomsday that the horses at Pelham Ranch are being neglected," Bugs explained.

"You mean Doomsday was trying to help save the poor horse from abuse and they _still_ arrested him?" Ginny cried.

"Yep," Bugs sighed.

"But where are P.T. and Doc?" Ginny asked. "They must be as outraged about this as we are!"

"I think they're out raising Doomsday's bail or something," Bugs answered. "And as for being outraged, P.T.'s the one who returned Bob to Snaff Pelham, even after Doomsday told him he was being mean to her!"

"What?" Ginny cried. "Oh, I don't believe that!"

"P.T. said something about having to follow the letter of the law," Bugs sighed with frustration. "He said he didn't want Doomsday to get into worse trouble."

"What's worse than being in jail?" Ginny cried, getting up and pacing back and forth in front of Bugs. "This is such a travesty of justice!"

"Yeah, a travesty!" Bugs agreed heartily.

"It's an abomination!" Ginny cried.

"Yeah, an abomination!" Bugs echoed with enthusiasm.

"Worthy of open scorn and brickbats!" Ginny cried.

"Yeah . . . ! Wait, you want to attack the station with bricks and bats?" Bugs asked with confusion.

"Well, _something_ has to be done!" Ginny insisted. "I mean, how can you stand for this?"

"I'm not standing. I'm sitting," Bugs pointed out.

"Then how can you take this sitting down?" Ginny asked.

"That's kind of the whole point of a sit-in," Bugs noted. "I'm staging a peaceful protest."

"Oh, pooh on peaceful protests!" Ginny scoffed. "This whole thing is just wrong! Don't you want to _do_ something about it?"

"I _am_ doing something," Bugs insisted. "I'm putting my legs to sleep!"

Ginny leaned down over Bugs and asked, "What would Bruce Lee do in this situation?"

"Well, he probably practiced sitting like this a lot more than me, so his legs probably wouldn't be cramping," Bugs speculated.

"Bruce Lee wouldn't sit around staging a peaceful protest!" Ginny insisted. "He would be getting out there and taking action to put things right!"

"That's true," Bugs realized.

"Remember 'Fist of Fury?'" Ginny asked.

"Yeah!" Bugs said, slowly getting to his feet. He had to hop slightly to get his legs to stop tingling. "And my fists can be just as angry as Bruce Lee's!"

"Bruce Lee confronted injustice head on!" Ginny said dramatically. "Righting wrongs! Defending the defenseless!"

"Yeah!" Bugs said, getting worked up. "I can right wrongs! I can defend the defenseless!" He opened a drawer in the desk and rifled around, finally pulling out a piece of paper. Picking up a pen, he began to fill out the form in earnest.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked with confusion.

"I'm filing a formal complaint with the department," Bugs explained. "Are there one or two 'f's in defenseless?"

Ginny grabbed the paper from the desk and wadded it up. "Bruce Lee wouldn't get bogged down in bureaucracy!"

"You're right!" Bugs agreed, slamming his hand down on the desk. "This isn't a time for red tape! This is a time for action!"

"That's the spirit!" Ginny cheered. "So . . . what are we going to do?"

"I know _exactly_ what we're going to do!" Bugs said seriously.

* * *

Klinsinger had departed only a short time before and I had crossed the stables to close the door leading to the corral. I stood, wondering what I could do before the others arrived. I wanted so much to open all the stalls and the doors and let the horses run free in the corral but I couldn't risk alerting Snaff to my presence.

Suddenly I heard someone approaching. I had just enough time to duck behind an empty stall door when the two large doors at the back of the stables flew open and Snaff entered in a rage.

"What's going on in here?" he shouted to no one in particular.

The man stood silhouetted in the doorway, looking around suspiciously as the horses all whinnied and threw their heads back in distress.

"Shut up!" Snaff shouted, storming down the walkway. I remained hidden behind the stall door and watched as Snaff inspected the large doors leading to the corral. "I could have sworn I saw this open from the house," he said to himself.

With an angry grunt, he turned and headed toward the back doors, looking up at the hay lofts and checking every corner. One horse reached out with its nose toward him as he passed as if asking for food.

"Get back, you annoying nag!" Snaff snarled, lunging at the animal angrily. "You're all such a bother. But not for long. Day after tomorrow I'll be rid of you."

He walked to Bob's stall and reached out to pat her nose. "All except for you, Bob. I can still make money off of _you."_

As Snaff reached towards her, Bob gave an angry huff and then bit him sharply on the arm. Snaff pulled away and cried out with fury. He immediately reached up to retrieve a horse whip that was hanging on the wall. "I'll teach you some respect!" he snarled, advancing on Bob menacingly.

"_Stop!" _I shouted, bolting from my hiding place and rushing at Snaff. He wheeled around just as I reached him and I grabbed the arm holding the whip, pulling it away from Bob. Snaff immediately fought back and we wrestled toe-to-toe for a moment, each trying to get the upper hand.

"You have no right to be here!" Snaff snarled.

"And you have no right to hurt these horses!" I countered.

We fell to the ground in a serious wrestling match, rolling over and over across the dirt floor. The horses around us neighed and stomped their hooves; their hot breath snorting with excitement and anxiety over the sudden melee.

As we rolled over again Snaff ended up on top of me. He was a big guy and definitely no weakling. I realized I had probably jumped into the fray a little too quickly. I desperately reached around me for anything I could grab. I realized Snaff had dropped the whip close to my head so I managed to get a hold of it and slapped him sharply across the face, which made him recoil.

I quickly rolled over onto my stomach and tried to crawl away but Snaff's body suddenly slammed into me, knocking me flat to the ground. I felt his knee dig into my lower back, holding me down at a disadvantage as he grabbed my left arm and pulled it sharply behind my back. He must have managed to grab some rope from somewhere and I felt him winding several coils around my wrist.

Realizing I was in serious trouble, I grabbed at my C.A.P.E.R. band radio with my right hand and quickly tried to turn it on to call for help.

"Oh no, you don't!" Snaff scolded, knocking the radio from my hand and grabbing my right wrist, which he quickly pulled behind my back. Within seconds my wrists were bound together tightly.

Snaff climbed off me and backed away, breathing heavily from the struggle. I managed to sit up and then, using one of the stable doors to lean against, I managed to get to my feet. I panted with exhaustion as Snaff rubbed the red welt across his cheek with the back of his hand. He eyed me worriedly as he reached for a lasso that was looped around a nail on a nearby post.

"At least I learned something useful from the old man," Snaff sneered, swinging the lasso over his head as he advanced on me.

I backed away, not sure what I could do at this point. He pretty much had me where he wanted me. I then noticed that he was standing underneath a lift on a pulley which must have been used to hoist hay up to the rafters. The rope holding the lift was near me, held in place by a pin. I quickly lunged at the pin, pulling it out with my teeth and releasing the lift, which came crashing down.

Snaff anticipated the move by mere seconds and was able to jump out of the way to avoid being crushed. I had actually only hoped for a few moments of distraction as I made a run for the back doors.

Just as I reached the doors I barely caught sight of the lasso as it flew over my head. A second later it tightened around my arms and waist, pulling tight and jerking me roughly off my feet.

"Not so fast there!" Snaff scolded as he approached, pulling the rope's slack in. I had fallen onto my side but he pulled me up into a sitting position and quickly wound the rope around my midsection and arms several times before tying it off.

I continued to struggle as Snaff dragged me over to the hoist, quickly unclipping the hook from the lift and then kneeling down to fasten it to the ropes around my middle. He then casually walked to the rope hanging from the pulley and started pulling. I felt myself hoisted into the air until I was dangling a few feet above the ground. Snaff then replaced the pin and brushed his hands together as if satisfied with a job well done.

The horses were all in a frightful state at this point, bucking and throwing their heads back and neighing. Snaff walked past me and started pacing nervously.

"You won't get away with this!" I said angrily.

"Shut up!" Snaff yelled viciously. "I have to figure out what to do now."

"It's not too late to come clean and own up to your wrongdoings," I suggested.

"I said _shut up!"_ Snaff growled. He paced some more, then stopped suddenly. I saw he was eyeing an old-fashioned kerosene lamp which was hanging on a post outside of one of the stalls. These lamps were actually placed all along the length of the stables but looked like they hadn't been used in years. He looked over at the cloth which I knew concealed the gasoline cans and then turned back to me, giving me a look I didn't like at all.

* * *

" . . . and that should do it," Sgt. Vinton sighed with relief as Doc signed the last of the paperwork and handed back the pen. "Doomsday is free to go."

"Thank you for hurrying this through," Doc said.

"I'm just sorry it took as long as it did," Sgt. Vinton offered. "Darn paperwork. Such a bother. Well, come on." He picked up a ring of keys from the desk. "Let's go spring the poor boy."

Sgt. Vinton led the way as they headed toward the far corner of the building where the jail cells were located. "It made me sick to have to arrest Doomsday," he sighed. "Sometimes the law can be so frustrating."

"I can understand your position," Doc assured him. "And I'm sure Doomsday understands, too."

"He's been a model prisoner," Sgt. Vinton smiled as he opened a door leading to the row of cells. "I mean, I know Doomsday would never break the law unless he had a darn good reason."

Doc stopped when he entered the area and stared in disbelief. "Well, I can't wait to hear what it is this time!" he sighed.

Sgt. Vinton turned around and was immediately shocked. The cell which had previously held Doomsday was empty. Several of its bars were bent outward, creating ample space for a boy Doomsday's size to slip through them.

"He's gone!" Sgt. Vinton gasped needlessly.

"Oh, Bugs," Doc sighed with frustration. "What have you done?"

"That's it!" Sgt. Vinton realized. "This is Bugs' doing, isn't it? He broke Doomsday out of jail! And now I'm going to have to arrest him, too!"

"Now wait a minute, let's think about this," Doc suggested, trying to calm Sgt. Vinton down. "I was back here not five minutes ago and Doomsday was still here. Which means the chances are Bugs got him out _after_ I'd already paid for his bail. Which means Doomsday was legally free to go. So it's not so much that Bugs pulled off a jailbreak as he just . . . broke the jail."

"Someone's got to fix this!" Sgt. Vinton insisted. "I can't have a jail cell with bent bars!"

"I'll see what I can do," Doc said, pulling out his C.A.P.E.R. band radio. "Doc calling Bugs! Pick up, Bugs! _Now!"_

Inside the cab of Ginny's water delivery truck, Doomsday heard Doc calling over Bugs' C.A.P.E.R. band radio. "Oh hey, it's Doc!" Doomsday smiled, and he pulled the radio off Bugs' belt to answer it. "Hi, Doc!"

Bugs, who was sitting between Ginny and Doomsday, snatched the radio from Doomsday's hand. "Yeah, what d'ya want?" Bugs asked sharply.

"Bugs, you'd better get back here and put these bars back in place right now!" Doc yelled. _"I'm _not paying to have this fixed!"

"Tough!" Bugs said gruffly. "We broke Doomsday outta the joint! And now we're gonna prove he's innocent!"

"And you lousy coppers can't stop us!" Ginny added, using the same gruff voice.

"Is that Ginny?" Doc asked with surprise. "Are _you_ the one who's getting Bugs all riled up?"

"We weren't about to let Doomsday stew in the joint!" Ginny insisted.

"We weren't letting Doomsday 'stew in the joint,'" Doc insisted. "In fact, I just posted his bail!"

"Maybe we should go back," Doomsday said worriedly.

"What? And let those dirty, rotten screws throw you back in the hole?" Ginny asked.

"Ginny, I can almost guarantee you won't ever be asked to join C.A.P.E.R. if you call us dirty, rotten screws!" Doc pointed out.

"Yeah? Well, I don't want to belong to a group that doesn't advocate justice!" Ginny insisted.

"Yeah!" Bugs agreed. "Top o' the world, Ma!"

"Look, this isn't some Jimmy Cagney movie!" Doc complained. "And what are you supposed to be anyway, Ginny? Bugs' moll?"

"Better a moll than a dirty copper!" Ginny remarked.

"Look, I'm not gonna say it again," Doc scolded. "You guys get back here and I mean _now!"_

"Nothing doin'!" Bugs argued. "We're on our way to the Pelham Ranch to find the evidence to prove Doomsday was justified in taking Bob!"

"And to help those poor horses!" Ginny added.

"Over and out!" Bugs concluded, turning off his radio.

"Great," Doc sighed. "Now we have Bonnie and Clyde on our hands. I'd better pick up Tack Pelham and get out to the ranch. Don't worry, Sgt. Vinton, I'll make sure Bugs straightens these bars when we get back!"

Doc hurried out of the precinct and jumped into the Big Bologna, heading toward the Shady Days Rest Home. Just as the Big Bologna pulled away from the curb, Kurt Klinsinger pulled up on his motorbike.

"Sgt. Vinton! Sgt. Vinton!" Klinsinger shouted as he ran into the station.

"Oh, what is it now?" Sgt. Vinton sighed as he entered the reception area. "I don't think I can take much more today."

"I have the goods on Snaff Pelham!" Klinsinger explained. "It's all right here on this film! I just need to get it developed and it's going to blow the lid off this whole case!"

"Okay, okay, slow down," Sgt. Vinton urged. "Take it easy and tell me . . . slowly now . . . just what you're talking about."

* * *

"Are you sure you're really thinking this through?" I asked, trying my best to keep my growing sense of fear from becoming obvious in my voice.

Snaff was moving quickly, distributing gasoline from one of the red metal cans in a reckless and haphazard fashion. There wasn't any apparent rhyme or reason in where he was pouring the stuff, although he seemed to be focusing mainly on the wooden parts of the stable. Earlier he had taken the first can and poured it around the outside of the building. It was clear from his actions that he was just trying to carry out what was in his mind as quickly as possible.

I had to crane my neck to keep the man in my sight, since the hoist I was dangling from was constantly turning. "You won't get away with it," I warned as I struggled futilely against my bonds. "Kurt Klinsinger was here before you came and he filmed the conditions of the stables. He even filmed the gasoline cans! They're going to know you used an accelerant!"

Snaff laughed heartily as he set down the empty can next to the other one by the open doors leading to the corral. "You'll have to do better than that. That stupid reporter wouldn't have the nerve to come out here. He couldn't find a story if it was written in a book!"

"But it's true," I insisted. "He was taking the film over to Sgt. Vinton. Everyone's going to know you're the one who started the fire!"

Snaff just shook his head with a smile as he picked up both cans and carried them out to his truck.

The smell of gasoline was causing the horses to become even more agitated. I could see in their eyes they knew something was wrong. Bob pawed at the ground with her hoof anxiously and let out a worrisome whinny.

I continued to struggle but it was no use. I was bound too tightly and being suspended was becoming more painful by the minute.

When Snaff returned he took down one of the antique lanterns from its hook and shook it, satisfied at the slight sloshing sound inside.

"I can't believe it," I said, my voice finally trembling. "I can't believe you'd be willing to burn all of these horses _alive."_

"They're worth more to me dead," Snaff explained in a callous tone. "I can collect the insurance and cash in right away instead of spending years trying to make anything off this place."

"All your father's hard work," I sighed.

"My father cares more about these horses than he ever did about me!" Snaff shouted. "All that mattered to him were these stupid animals! Everything was horses! All the time!" He looked at me with knitted brows and asked, "What kind of man names his son Snaffle? Seriously?"

"You're wrong," I said. "Your father cares about you very much. He only wants what's best for you. That's why he was willing to sign over the running of the ranch to you. He wanted to give you something to live for and believe in."

"That's a lie!" Snaff said angrily. "He never cared about me! And I don't care about him!" He laughed. "The old fool . . . he thought he was only signing over power of attorney to me. He had no idea he was also signing away the deed to the ranch!" His face grew serious. "But ha ha, the joke was on _me!_ All these years I thought my father was making a fortune from this place. But it's a money pit! These horses are a waste of time! Bob's the only one I can really make any profit on, selling her as a broodmare."

"You just don't understand," I sighed, trying to shift my weight to take the pressure off my arms. I knew had to keep Snaff talking as long as possible.

"You think I don't know what I'm doing," Snaff sneered. "Well, I know _exactly_ what I'm doing! See, my original plan was to set it up so the fire would start while Bob and I were at the Christmas parade. Oh, what a horrible tragedy it was going to be when we returned to the ranch to find the stables had caught fire and all of the horses were gone!"

"They're living creatures, not_ things!" _I cried.

"Everyone would be so sympathetic about my heartbreaking situation," Snaff said with mock sadness. "Of course, the authorities might have questioned how the fire started. And then the insurance company would have probably asked for an investigation. I worried about that. I even wondered if I could really go through with it . . . could I really get away with it?"

"Of course not!" I insisted.

"But that was before!" Snaff said excitedly, reaching into his pocket to pull out a lighter as he lifted the glass part of the lantern to light it. "This . . ._ this _is perfect!"

Snaff finished lighting the lantern and pocketed the lighter. "You see, Bob and I didn't come back here right away. We stopped at the riding trails down the hill. I wanted to give her some exercise, so I rode her for a couple of hours. But then . . . then I saw smoke coming from the direction of the ranch. Still, it took me a while to get back to the trailer, load Bob and drive out here."

Snaff's voice took on that sickeningly mock sad tone tinged with underlying glee. "We found the stables completely engulfed in flames. All the horses had perished. There was nothing anyone could do. But it was a much more heartbreaking tragedy than anyone suspected. You see, a young police intern had illegally entered the property. His heart was in the right place, but . . . well, you know what they say about good intentions . . . .

"He entered the stables but it was dark. So he lit one of these lanterns." Snaff was moving in an animated fashion, almost acting out the scenario. "He entered one of the stalls. It was all so unexpected. He probably didn't even know what happened when the horse kicked him. The lantern fell into the adjoining stall . . . the fire spread so quickly. It was all so . . . pointless."

"They'll never believe it," I shouted desperately. "Like I said, Klinsinger was here! He has the film! He'll tell them what he saw!"

Snaff set the lantern on the ground and walked over to a disorderly pile of tools lying nearby. As I struggled, the rope swung me around again so I had to strain to see that Snaff was stooping down to pick up something.

"Of course, there's the little problem of the horse kick to work out," he sighed, standing up and turning back to me. "But then . . . sometimes one just has to improvise."

I was rotating back around to face Snaff and only had a second to react when I saw him grasp the handle of the shovel with both hands and swing it at my head. I instinctively cringed as there was a loud crack and I felt myself spinning as everything went black.

* * *

"To think, I honestly believed he had changed! Ha! What a fool I was! You know, for years I made excuses for him. I thought I had been a bad father. Maybe I spent too much time with the horses. Maybe I didn't give him enough attention. His mother, God rest her soul, she kept telling me it wasn't my fault. That there was just something not right with that boy. That he didn't seem to have any sense of compassion or sympathy. But I kept thinking there must have been something I could have done . . . something that would have made a difference . . . "

As he drove the Big Bologna, Doc was listening with interest to Ol' Tack Pelham. Doc had originally planned to park the vehicle and go inside to help wheel the elderly man outside. He certainly hadn't expected the senior citizen to come sprinting across the lawn the minute he drove up, asking if he were the one who was supposed to take him out to the ranch.

Tack eyed Doc with a slight look of sadness. "You boys are so nice," he sighed. "Not like my son. He never seemed to care about anyone but himself. Where did I go wrong?"

"Sometimes these things are just out of our control," Doc offered. "I'm sure you tried to set a good example."

"I thought ranching was a good experience for every young man," Tack said. "But Snaff, he just never took to it. I should never have trusted him with the ranch. If anything happens to those horses . . . "

"Try not to worry," Doc said. "We'll be at the ranch soon. Hopefully we'll find that nothing too terrible has transpired."

* * *

"But wait!" Kurt Klinsinger cried as Sgt. Vinton pulled him out of the police station and toward his patrol car. "Don't you want to see the film? I can have it developed in no time flat!"

"No, I want to get out to the Pelham Ranch right away and see what's going on there for myself!" Sgt. Vinton insisted, climbing into the driver's seat. When he saw Klinsinger wasn't getting into the car quickly enough, he shouted, "Well, come on!"

Klinsinger reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat. "But can't I just call my film crew to meet us out there?" he pleaded. "I mean, this could be a big story!"

Sgt. Vinton simply ignored the reporter as he sped away from the curb.


	3. Act Three

Snaff breathed heavily as he struggled to drag my limp body into the stall. The black stallion which occupied the enclosure was visibly nervous, stomping its hooves and backing as far away from Snaff as he could.

"There," Snaff sighed, releasing my wrists as he dumped me close to the fencing between this stall and the empty one beside it. Snaff looked at the stallion and then motioned toward it quickly, causing it to start and fidget nervously. "That's good," Snaff snickered. "Feel free to trample him as much as you like. It'll help sell the story."

Snaff exited the stall and closed the door behind him while the confused stallion remained standing in the corner, anxiously looking down at me.

Hurrying to the back of the stables, Snaff closed the large double doors and then walked over to Bob. He grabbed Bob's reins tightly as he opened the door to her stall. "Come on!" he shouted, yanking on her reins to jerk her from the enclosure. "Come on, now!"

Bob pulled away, grunting angrily at Snaff, but Snaff held the reins tightly and jerked her forward, forcing her to follow him. He then reached down to retrieve the lantern from the floor, carrying it over to the empty stall beside the black stallion's. Still clutching Bob's reins, Snaff violently threw the lantern down into the stall so that it broke on the ground, spilling kerosene over the nearby hay. Snaff watched anxiously for a moment until the flame from the lantern started spreading, catching the hay and slowly growing in intensity.

"Let's go!" Snaff ordered, jerking Bob roughly as he ran to the doors leading to the corral. They both hurried outside and then Snaff closed the doors behind them.

Bob dug her hooves into the dirt and tried to resist as Snaff pulled her toward the open gate in the corral, struggling to lead her to the single trailer.

"Come on, you ungrateful beast!" Snaff growled, grabbing the reins with both hands and pulling Bob with all his might.

Bob became more determined to fight and pulled away desperately, using the weight of her body to counter the force with which Snaff was pulling at her.

"You're going in the trailer!" Snaff groaned from the effort. "Or else!"

Bob suddenly lunged at Snaff, catching him completely off balance. She threw her head down toward his legs and then flipped him up into the air over her neck. Snaff hit the ground hard and was dazed, not believing what had just happened.

"Why you vicious nag!" Snaff growled, clambering to get to his feet.

Bob lunged at Snaff again, who backed away quickly, looking around for something to use against the rebellious horse. Bob reared and kicked out with her hooves again and again, driving Snaff backwards as he held up his hands in an attempt to defend himself.

"That's it!" Snaff suddenly snapped, reaching down behind him to pick up a stick. "I'm through being nice! I swear, I am going to thrash you to within an inch of your life!"

Snaff swung at Bob but missed. Bob instantly lunged forward, driving her head into Snaff's chest and knocking him off his feet. Snaff hadn't realized the well was right behind him and with a cry of shock he stumbled over the rocky edge, disappearing down the hole; his voice fading as he fell.

Bob turned and ran back to the corral, rushing through the gate and stopping at the doors of the stable. She whinnied nervously and pawed at the ground, nosing the doors but not knowing how to open them. She could smell smoke from within and huffed anxiously. Finally she turned and ran out of the corral, racing as fast as she could toward the road.

* * *

I was aware of a smoky smell and the sensation of hot breath against my face. Slowly I opened my eyes and realized everything was dark and out of focus, but I could just barely make out something large and dark hovering over me. Closing my eyes, I reached up and felt something moving, sniffing at my hand. I recognized the sound as that of a horse. I opened my eyes again and while everything was spinning I recognized the effect of the flickering orange glow which was illuminating the animal's face above me as it made a nervous huffing sound.

I struggled against the incessant dizziness to sit up, eyeing the flames through the slats between the stables with concern. I knew I didn't have much time. The stallion turned in a circle beside me, bumping me roughly into the wall as I moved toward the door, pulling myself into a standing position despite the unbelievable pain and wooziness in my head. My fingers somehow found the latch and the door opened. Within an instant the stallion bolted past me from the stall and began running around the center walkway frantically.

As I stumbled through the opening I could see the fire was quickly spreading from the empty stall to the wall behind and climbing into the hay loft above. Everything was still spinning and I felt horribly nauseous but I somehow pulled myself along the line of stalls, struggling to keep my feet and fighting through the intense dizziness. I could hear the sound of the horses panicking, neighing and fidgeting and throwing their bodies against the wooden slats of their enclosures.

At each stall I stopped and worked to release the latch of the doors, throwing them open before moving on. After what felt like an eternity I reached the final stall on the one side, throwing open the door and gasping for breath. Smoke was quickly filling the stables and I knew that what little visibility remained would quickly diminish. I coughed, which increased the throbbing pain in my head tenfold.

I was going to open the doors to the corral when I realized with horror that the only horse running loose was the stallion. None of the other horses had come out of their stalls. Desperately I backtracked, moving along the line and trying to coax the horses out of their pens.

"Please, come on!" I cried to one horse, my voice sounding as if it were miles away. The horse only backed away from me, nervously grunting.

Somehow I remembered that horses have a tendency to panic during fires and recalled reading that it was necessary to cover their eyes to evacuate them. I pulled myself down the line of stalls, desperately looking for something I could utilize to cover the horse's eyes, but everything around me continued to spin and was quickly becoming obscured by smoke.

My body was racked with coughs and I felt as if I would be sick. I then remembered that I hadn't even opened the doors of the stalls on the opposite side of the stables. How could I possibly evacuate so many horses alone when I could barely stand?

Suddenly I had a strange sensation of feeling detached, almost disconnected from my body and the situation. It was as if I were falling into a deep hole. And as I fell it dawned on me that if I hadn't come to the ranch the horses would still have had two days to live. Instead they were going to die now and it was my fault. I saw that look of disappointment on Doomsday's face and then it faded away to nothing.

* * *

"I just don't know about this," Doomsday sighed worriedly. "Doc sounded really mad. Maybe we should go back."

"Nonsense!" Bugs insisted. "You want to help the horses, don't you?"

"Well, yeah," Doomsday agreed. "But Bugs . . . I don't understand why you just didn't ask Sgt. Vinton for the key to the cell. Did you have to bend the bars?"

"Sgt. Vinton was busy," Bugs explained. "I didn't want to bother him. He's had so much on his mind lately."

"That's true," Doomsday sighed. "I sure hope he was able to get Santa's suit to the dry cleaners."

As Ginny's truck rounded a bend on the hilly road, she pointed some distance ahead. "Who would let their horse run around loose like that?" she asked. The animal was running at full speed toward them with its reins dangling dangerously in front.

"That's Bob!" Doomsday realized.

Ginny slammed on the brakes and Doomsday immediately jumped from the cab of the truck as Bob came to stop in front of him.

Ginny and Bugs watched as Bob panted and huffed, then whinnied anxiously. "Something really bad is happening," Doomsday told them.

Bugs pointed toward a spot over the hill and said, "Isn't that smoke?"

Doomsday pulled the reins over Bob's head and climbed onto the horse's back. "I'll meet you at the ranch," he said. Bob immediately turned and started running back to the ranch, cutting across the hills and meadows.

Ginny started up the truck and followed the winding road, driving as fast as the heavily-ladened vehicle would allow.

Doomsday leaned in low over Bob's neck, holding on tight with his legs as she pounded furiously across the open meadows. They quickly approached a fence which Bob cleared easily. As they came over the crest of a hill Doomsday could see more black smoke rising into the sky from behind the grove of trees surrounding the Pelham Ranch.

"Hurry, Bob! Hurry!" Doomsday cried.

Drawing from her racetrack days of putting in that extra effort on the final turn, Bob somehow managed a final burst of energy, amazingly increasing her speed as they raced through the ranch's front gates. She cut through the trees and in an instant the ranch lay before them.

With a rising sense of horror, Doomsday could see that the stables were on fire. Bob carried him down into the open corral and stopped as Doomsday leapt off her back and hurried to the huge double doors.

Without hesitation, Doomsday threw both doors open and was immediately hit with a wall of smoke and heat which made him step back, coughing in response. After a moment the accumulated smoke cleared enough that Doomsday could just see inside the stables. He could hear the horses crying out in fear and immediately rushed inside.

Keeping low, Doomsday looked around in the darkness as best he could. He could see the doors of the stalls appeared to be open all along the left side and one black stallion was running around frantically. Doomsday focused on the right side, making his way down the line as he opened the door to each stall in turn. As he worked, he urged the horses to remain calm. He could see flames engulfing the back left side of the stables and spreading quickly in the rafters above. The smoke grew thicker the further he went, and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from choking.

Once he had opened all the stalls along the right side, Doomsday rushed to the back doors and threw them open. A wind blew threw the stables, clearing the smoke somewhat but also picking up burning bits of hay from above which wafted down around him like a volcanic eruption.

Doomsday called out to the horses, who were still panicking and crying out with fear. Suddenly Bob, who had entered the stables, neighed loudly, urging the horses to be silent and listen. The horses obeyed, and Doomsday quickly ordered them to leave their stalls in a calm and orderly fashion, moving single file out the back doors and proceeding well away from the building to the pasture beyond.

Fighting back fear, the horses obeyed. One by one they left their stalls, following the horse in front of them as they calmly walked along the line of stalls to the back doors. The black stallion obediently joined the procession as well. Doomsday watched as they filed past, counting them. "How many are there in all, Bob?" Doomsday called, his voice rough from the smoke.

Bob neighed loudly in reply.

" . . . eight, nine, ten, eleven," Doomsday counted as the last of the horses filed past. With a sense of relief he could see them moving out to the pasture where they would be safe.

Doomsday coughed loudly, ducking to avoid a large piece of burning hay as it fell from above. The fire was now spreading to the right side of the stables and Doomsday knew it was only a matter of minutes before the whole place would go up in flames.

"Come on, Bob, let's go!" Doomsday called, turning to head out the back doors. But he suddenly realized Bob wasn't moving. "Bob, come on! Hurry!"

Bob whinnied nervously and lowered her head in the direction of a stall.

Doomsday hurried to Bob and grabbed her reins, trying to pull her from the stables. "Bob, we have to go! Come on!"

Bob stood fast and grunted, then whinnied several times.

Doomsday stopped pulling at the reins and clutched Bob's bridle in shock. _"What? _Where? Where is he??"

Bob looked anxiously at the black stallion's stall, which was completely engulfed. Doomsday looked around frantically, checking some of the empty stalls as he fought back a series of hacking coughs as well as a sense of rising panic.

Doomsday then heard Bob whinny and turned to see her head leaning down over a spot beside a nearby stall. Doomsday rushed over knelt down, quickly examining me as I stirred slightly.

"P.T.?" Doomsday asked anxiously. "P.T., can you hear me?"

"The horses . . . " I mumbled. "The horses . . . "

"The horses are okay," Doomsday assured me, struggling to lift me up so that he could get my arm around his shoulder. "Come on, I have to get you out of here!"

I became semi-conscious as I felt myself being supported by Doomsday and he encouraged me to move toward the doors leading to the corral.

Ginny's truck pulled up outside the corral and before she'd even stopped Bugs leapt from the cab and rushed to the stables, crying out, "Doomsday!" Bugs stopped outside the doors and tried to peer inside through the billowing smoke. "Doomsday!"

"Bugs, help me," Doomsday coughed, stumbling suddenly from the blackness as he struggled to support my weight.

Bugs quickly threw my other arm over his shoulder and together they helped me out of the stables and through the gate of the corral with Bob following close behind.

"What happened?" Bugs cried, noticing the line of dried blood running down from my forehead with concern.

"I don't know," Doomsday said as they carefully worked to sit me down on the ground. Doomsday sat beside me and held me up against his shoulder.

"Oh my goodness!" Ginny cried as she hurried to us. "What happened?"

"We don't know," Doomsday answered. "I didn't even know P.T. was here!"

"We didn't either," Bugs said.

"If Bob hadn't told me where he was . . . " Doomsday sighed, letting his voice trail off.

"The horses!" Ginny cried suddenly.

"The horses are all okay," Doomsday assured her quickly. "They're in the pasture out back."

I was staring ahead in a daze. Everything still seemed bizarrely distant. "The horses . . . " I mumbled, trying to get up, which caused me to start coughing.

"The horses are fine!" Doomsday assured me again, holding me down. "They're all safe."

The Big Bologna suddenly drove up and Tack leapt from the vehicle, observing the scene before him with shock. "My horses!" He started running toward the stables.

"They're safe!" Doomsday called to the man, stopping him. "They're in the pasture. They're all okay."

"Where is my son?" Tack cried. "Where is Snaff?"

No one had an answer to this question. Bob glanced over at the well nearby but said nothing.

Doc had climbed out of the Big Bologna and ran to Doomsday, kneeling down in front of me as he carefully examined my head. "P.T., can you hear me?" Doc asked.

I moaned slightly, acknowledging the question, although I was too dizzy to offer any more of a response.

"Doc, is he going to be okay?" Doomsday asked, fighting back a choking in his throat caused by a combination of smoke inhalation and emotion.

"He definitely has a concussion," Doc said, brushing his hand against the side of my head and causing me to wince. "Was he unconscious?"

"He was when I first found him, but I don't know for how long," Doomsday answered.

"Any vomiting? Seizures?"

"Not that I know of," Doomsday replied.

"Good," Doc said, checking my eyes.

"The horses . . . " I moaned.

"He keeps asking about the horses, even though I've told him they're okay," Doomsday said worriedly.

"That's not unusual with this kind of injury," Doc assured him.

Bugs looked up at Tack Pelham, who was staring at the stables with distress. "How could this happen?" the old man cried.

Flaming bits of hay were flying up from the rafters, carried by the wind and wafting dangerously close to other out-buildings. The fire was also spreading along the outside perimeter of the stables, catching the unchecked grasses which had sprouted up between the buildings.

"This whole place will go up if we don't do something," Bugs noted.

Hearing this, Tack turned and said, "I have a fire hose set up! Quickly!"

Bugs and Ginny joined Tack as they ran to a coiled fire hose on the side of a storage barn nearby. Together they pulled the hose out to its full length. At this moment, Sgt. Vinton and Kurt Klinsinger arrived in Sgt. Vinton's patrol car.

"Good Lord!" Klinsinger exclaimed. "It looks like Snaff didn't waste any time!"

Doc jumped up and ran to Sgt. Vinton, leaning in the window of the patrol car. "Sgt. Vinton, call the fire department and an ambulance right away. P.T. is hurt."

Sgt. Vinton picked up the microphone on his radio and made the emergency call as Klinsinger climbed out of the patrol car and took in the hectic scene before him.

"Oh, if only I could have called my camera crew!" Klinsinger sighed.

Bugs turned the wheel on the fire hose system to start the water. Only nothing came out.

"Nothing's happening!" Ginny cried.

"That's impossible!" Tack insisted. "I make sure the tank is always kept full!"

Ginny and Tack dropped the hose and ran to the base of the water tower, shielding their eyes as they looked up at the glass sight gauge on the side of the tank. "The tank is empty!" Ginny cried.

"That no-good son of mine let the tank run dry?" Tack cried angrily. "Where is he? When I get my hands on him . . !"

"Is there any water in the well?" Ginny asked.

Bugs ran over to the well and picked up a small rock, which he dropped down the hole. He listened carefully and finally heard a soft thud, and a loud, "Ow!" There followed an echoing stream of obscenities which made Bugs back away slowly.

"Boy, that's one angry well!" Bugs commented.

"There's been nothing in that well for years," Tack assured Ginny.

"Well, I wouldn't say _nothing," _Bugs offered.

"Why aren't you using the fire hose?" Doc asked as he approached them. "We could at least keep the fire from spreading before the fire trucks gets here."

"Snaff let the tank go dry," Tack moaned.

"It's so frustrating!" Ginny cried. "I have a whole truck full of water! But there's no way to effectively get it on the fire!"

Doc studied the water tank, the electric pump below and the troughs inside the corral. "Does this pump lead from the tank to the troughs?" he asked.

"Yes," Tack said. "I usually keep the troughs filled."

Doc snapped his fingers. "If we can empty the water bottles on Ginny's truck into the troughs, I can reverse this pump to pump the water up into the tank."

"Really?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"But that's crazy," Tack sighed. "No one can empty that many water bottles quickly enough to do any good!"

"_We _can!" Bugs assured the old man. "Come on, Ginny!"

Ginny ran into the corral and Bugs shifted into super speed as he raced to the truck, carrying two bottles at a time and then opening them before setting them down at an angle to empty into the troughs. Ginny went down the line and checked their progress, removing each bottle once it was empty and setting it aside as Bugs sped by again and again. Working together they struck a good rhythm and soon the troughs all had several inches of water in them.

"Okay, start pumping!" Ginny waved to Doc.

Doc had switched the wires on the pump and turned it on. The water from the troughs began pumping up into the water tank.

"It's working!" Tack gasped with amazement. "It's actually working!"

Sgt. Vinton had jumped out of the patrol car and retrieved a blanket from the trunk. He knelt down next to me and Doomsday helped him wrap the blanket around my shoulders. The world was still spinning but I was starting to feel like I wouldn't pass out again, even when my body was racked with another series of coughs.

"Take it easy," Sgt. Vinton told me. "The paramedics are on their way."

I nodded slightly, grateful that I had Doomsday to lean into when I was feeling so unsteady.

"Keep it going!" Doc encouraged as Bugs and Ginny continued to empty the water bottles. The pump was pulling the water into the tank at about the same rate they were keeping the troughs filled. The fire was spreading around the stables and Doc noticed the roof of one of the out buildings was now smoking, having been set alight by a flying ember.

Bugs finally stopped running, panting to catch his breath. "That's the last of them!" he reported.

"Okay, great," Doc said. "We'll let this last bit of water pump to the tank and then I'll reverse the motor again."

Tack walked over to Bugs and patted him on the back, then smiled at Ginny. "I never saw such hard-working kids. I just wish I knew where that useless son of mine is."

"Well, this is just a hunch," Bugs gasped, "but I think he's in the well."

"Oh really?" Tack asked, walking over to the well. He looked down into the darkness. "Snaff? Are you down there?"

"Daddy! Help me!" Snaff's feeble voice came back in answer. "I think I broke my hip!"

"Oh no!" Tack gasped. "That's very painful! Yes, I'm very familiar with that! Do you know what the technical term for that is? _Poetic justice! _You little rat!"

"Okay, that's got it!" Doc called, turning off the pump and quickly reversing the wires again. He then called out, "We could use everyone's help with the hoses!"

"Come on, Mr. Klinsinger," Doomsday said, carefully leaning me against Sgt. Vinton, who had taken a seat beside me. "Let's go!"

"Oh, I'm not sure I'd be of much help," Klinsinger whined.

"Since you can't cover the story you might as well be part of the story!" Sgt. Vinton insisted. "Now go on!"

Bugs turned the wheel on the fire hose system and the water began coming out strong. Doc, Bugs and Ginny worked one hose while Doomsday, Tack and Klinsinger used another one closer to the house. Between the two teams they managed to douse several hot spots, quickly preventing the fire from spreading to the rest of the ranch.

There came the sound of sirens approaching in the distance. I was now sitting up mostly of my own volition and the dizziness was thankfully starting to subside. I watched wearily as the others worked together to fight the fire. Bob, who was standing nearby, leaned down to nuzzle my neck gently and I reached up to pat her nose.

Sgt. Vinton looked at me and was startled to see tears flowing from my eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said softly with a slight smile. "I'm just so proud of them."

"You have every reason to be proud," Sgt. Vinton agreed, waving the paramedics over as soon as the fire trucks pulled up behind us.

* * *

"He's doing very well," the doctor assured everyone who was sitting and standing around my hospital bed. "But we'll keep him overnight for observations just to be sure."

"Thank you, doctor," Doc said as the man patted my shoulder and left the room.

While I still had a significant headache and intermittent dizzy spells I was just grateful that the world had stopped spinning.

"I can't believe Snaff Pelham actually tried to kill you and the horses!" Ginny said. "What kind of person could do a thing like that?"

"A very bad person," Doomsday said seriously, coughing slightly. "I knew he was up to no good."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked Doomsday worriedly.

"Look who's asking!" Doc smiled. "The paramedics treated Doomsday for smoke inhalation at the scene and said he would be just fine."

"And how's the ranch?" I asked.

"The stables were a complete loss," Doc explained. "But thankfully everything else was saved."

"And after the firemen put out the fire, they had to rescue Snaff from the well," Bugs added. "Boy, was he in a bad mood!"

"I'll bet Tack was pretty upset," I sighed.

"Actually he was pretty happy," Bugs reported. "He said he could rebuild the stables and make them better than ever. All that mattered to him was that you and the horses were okay."

"Thanks to Doomsday," I smiled.

"And thanks to Bob," Doomsday quickly added.

"This is going to make a great story!" Klinsinger said, quickly scribbling down some notes. "'Boy Charged with Horse Theft Now Hailed as Hero!'"

"Well, I, for one, am going to do everything within my power to make sure those charges against Doomsday are not only dropped but wiped completely from his record," Sgt. Vinton promised.

Ol' Tack Pelham entered, looking glum. "I'm afraid I have some bad news," he sighed.

Everyone asked worriedly what was wrong.

"It appears that my son Snaff is going to survive his injuries," Tack sighed. "But the good news is he's facing such a long list of charges he'll probably be going to jail for a long, long time, which is, quite frankly, where he belongs." Tack looked at me sadly. "I'm absolutely sickened by what he did to you."

"Well, it certainly isn't your fault," I insisted.

"Yeah, we see it all the time, unfortunately," Sgt. Vinton offered. "Some people are just no good, plain and simple."

"Well, I know a group of people who are _more_ than good," Tack smiled at us. "And I want to reward you kids for everything you've done for me."

"Well, that certainly isn't necessary," Doc said.

"Oh now, I'm afraid I'll have to insist," Tack said, holding up his hands to hold off further protests. "Thanks to you I still have the ranch and all of my horses. Such brave acts deserve to be rewarded. I'll write a check which you can use to benefit your very worthy organization."

We all offered our thanks for such generosity. Then Sgt. Vinton pointed out, "Visiting hours are just about over. We'd better let P.T. get some rest."

As everyone said their goodbyes and started to leave, Ginny turned to Doc and asked, "Now can I join C.A.P.E.R.?"

"I don't know," Doc said. "We still have to talk about this whole 'dirty, rotten screws' thing."

Doomsday squeezed my hand and smiled at me, saying, "We'll see you tomorrow."

"Absolutely," I replied.

Ol' Tack Pelham waited behind and then approached my bedside. "If there's anything I can do to make this up to you, please let me know," he said.

I thought for a moment, then said, "About this reward . . . could I make a suggestion?"

"Anything you want," Tack smiled. "Just name it."

* * *

The parade was in full swing and the crowds gathered on the sidewalks were full of good cheer. Parents hoisted their little ones up on their shoulders as the high school marching band passed. Everyone waved at the Mayor as he drove by in his convertible. There were oohs and ahhs when the paper-mache float shaped like a snow-covered cake sponsored by the Dolly Dimples Catering Company drove by.

Finally the cheers rose to a fever pitch when Santa's sleigh appeared pulled by Bob, who was groomed to perfection. She held her head up proudly, her movements strong and sure as the sleigh bells on her harness jingled with each step. Santa waved to the crowds and threw candy canes to the kids.

We were working crowd control at the very end of the parade, enjoying the festivities as much as everyone. Each of us wore a Santa hat, as did most of the people in attendance. We applauded and cheered as much as the little kids when Bob and Santa passed us. We then motioned that the crowds could now enter the street and as the people on either side merged into one reveling crowd we walked to the area where the parade participants had gathered.

Doomsday stepped over to me and said, "Wasn't Bob beautiful?"

"She sure was," I nodded.

"And Santa's suit looked so nice and clean!" Doomsday added. "I'm glad Sgt. Vinton was able to get it to the dry cleaners in time."

We joined Bugs and Doc over by Santa's sleigh as Ol' Tack Pelham worked to unhitch Bob. Kurt Klinsinger was standing nearby, speaking into a microphone as his camera crew filmed him.

"And it's a spectacular ending to what has certainly been the most incredible Santa Celebration and Soirée Parade yet!" Klinsinger shouted to be heard over the crowds. "And what better way to ring in the holidays? This year we have so much to be grateful for and I think more than ever each of us can fully appreciate the true meaning of this season."

"P.T., you're supposed to be taking it easy," Doc reminded me.

"I feel fine," I assured him. "And this certainly can't be considered working."

Ginny ran over to us, wearing her Santa hat and Christmas-tree covered dungarees. "Wasn't it wonderful?" she asked. "And Bob was so pretty!"

"I liked Dolly Dimples' float," Doomsday said. "It looked good enough to eat!"

We heard the sound of sleigh bells approaching and turned to see Santa walking toward us, leading Bob by the reins. "Ho, ho, ho!" Sgt. Vinton laughed, disguising his voice quite well. "Merry Christmas, boys and girl!"

"Merry Christmas!" we all replied.

"And Merry Christmas, Doomsday!" Santa said heartily, handing Bob's reins to him.

"Aw, Santa," Doomsday laughed as he patted Bob's nose. "That's sweet. But even I know _you_ can't give Bob to me."

"No . . . but _I_ can."

Doomsday turned to see Ol' Tack Pelham smiling at him. He seemed confused, looking from Bob to us to Tack. "What?"

"She's all yours," Tack explained. "I want you to have her."

Doomday's mouth hung open in disbelief. "But . . . how . . . _why?"_

"She'll live at my new stables and I'll pay for her upkeep but you can visit her and ride her any time you like," Tack continued. "And you have complete say over all decisions regarding her future. She's legally yours. And I can't think of anyone she'd rather belong to."

"I . . . I can't believe it," Doomsday gasped, hugging Bob's neck. "Really?"

Tack laughed and nodded. "Really. You see, as their reward, your partners wanted you to have her."

Doomsday looked at us with surprise. "Oh fellas!" he gasped, hugging Bugs tightly.

"Merry Christmas, Doomsday," Bugs smiled, patting Doomsday on the back.

"I just can't believe it!" Doomsday said, hugging Doc tightly.

"You deserve it," Doc assured him, smiling as he stepped back. "But actually you can thank P.T. It was his idea."

Doomsday looked at me with surprise, his eyes welling with tears. The expression on his face wiped away any memory of the disappointed look he had given me two days before.

"Oh, P.T.!" Doomsday sobbed, fighting back his tears as we embraced. "Oh, thank you!"

"No, Doomsday," I said in his ear. "Thank _you_ . . . for saving my life."

We smiled warmly at each other as we parted. Doomsday walked back to Bob as Ginny stepped forward and hugged him. "Merry Christmas, Doomsday," she smiled.

"You guys are the best friends I've ever had," Doomsday said, wiping his eyes. He hugged Bob's neck as Bob nuzzled him happily. "Oh, I have something for you, Bob," Doomsday remembered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a couple of sugar cubes.

"That reminds me! Ginny, I have something for you, too," Bugs said, reaching into his pocket.

"Ooh, is it my C.A.P.E.R. ring?" she asked excitedly. "My C.A.P.E.R. band radio? Am I in?"

Bugs pulled out a sprig of mistletoe and held it over her head as he puckered his lips.

"Oh," Ginny sighed with some disappointment.

"Thanks, Bugs!" I said, walking over and giving Ginny a kiss.

"Hey!" Bugs protested.

"Yeah, thanks, Bugs!" Doomsday said, leaning over and kissing Ginny on the cheek.

"Now wait just a . . . " Bugs cried.

"Much obliged, Bugs," Doc said as he stepped forward and gave Ginny a kiss.

"Oh my!" Ginny gasped in awe when Doc had finished.

"Hey, what about _me?"_ Bugs cried.

Bob leaned over and kissed Bugs on the cheek. We all laughed as Bugs looked frustrated.

"Aw, poor Bugs," Ginny sighed sympathetically, and she gave him a kiss.

Bugs smiled and said in his best gangster voice, "Now _that's_ my moll!"

The high school band was playing a Christmas carol and we all joined the crowd in singing, "We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!"

THE END


End file.
